Differences
by noonstar
Summary: Sirius and Harry's reunion in PoA revealed so much... and yet after 12 years in prizon around soulsuckers, can you really trust everything he says? what might some of the differences been? AU pretending books 5 and up aren't out
1. Chapter 1

The Sorting Excitement

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me – mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

What had to have been the most humongous man he'd ever seen was hollering, a lamp swinging from his trash-can-lid-sized hands high above the heads of the students. It was oddly reassuring to be dwarfed in proximity to the crude behemoth leading them on a dark and narrow descent into who knew where. He could almost forget his own unusual stature, or forget how he always seemed to stick out like a sore thumb above people his own age.

"Y'all will see Hogwarts in a sec," the large man called back over his shoulder, the lamp still held aloft before them silhouetting his wild and scraggly hair. In its light, the roughness and open honesty of his face shone through. Huge and ferocious looking he may seem, but it was immediately apparent to Severus that he was just a crude, harmless giant of a man.

As they rounded another bend, the darkness parted upon a great lake. Across the lake, upon a mountain, stood the most magical castle they'd ever seen. A chorus of _oooooh_s and appreciative exclamations sounded. Even though his first thought was on their simplemindedness, he had to admit that with the fall of darkness providing a backdrop and what looked like every window in the place alight, the castle was an impressive sight to behold.

"Everyone in a boat! No more'n four to a boat!" the booming bellow broke his contemplation of just how some of the towers were supported, and he realized that a collection of dinghies was resting in the water by the shore.

_You have **got** to be joking…_

--------------

"Can't these things go any faster? I'm starving! Get me to where the food is!"

_Thwack!_

"Hey, what was that for?"

The donor of the smelly sock now being returned ducked, grinning. "If I had a galleon every time you informed us of your stomach's ever whim…seriously–"

A dry chuckle came from the third boy in the small carriage. "Now, don't go inflating his head, James. I wasn't aware our dear scurvy mongrel's name was an adjective, and you mustn't go assigning parts of speech where it's not due: especially pricks with swollen heads and bloated digestive systems."

"Scurvy mongrel? Scurvy mongrel? I do beg your pardon!"

"Well, you've got to admit you certainly resemble one!"

The last boy, a tad pudgy, but in his youth with the opportunity to outgrow it still, added his two Knuts: "He's right, of course. Last spring on one of our outings, I swear a flea the size of my head tried was crawling around your hide!"

"What! No! That was just once… Remus has gotten loads more than me! That's not fair! We're _all_ scurvy mongrels!"

They were all laughing now, and even the original moaner couldn't keep a smile from tweaking at the expression of righteous indignations he had masterfully crafted.

--------------------

The indignity he had suffered having to clamber into a boat had been somewhat tempered when a few disdainful sneers had secured his boat for himself, and himself alone. He was now smugly enthroned upon the middle seat of the dinghy, gliding across the lake with his fellow first years. They drew closer and closer to the vine-covered cliff face the castle seemed to be perched atop, with no correction of speed or heading, which Severus thought was overdue in relation to the cliff's proximity and very solid appearance.

_But appearances are deceiving, it seems,_ he mused as the large man's almost capsized dinghy pulled ahead and its occupant, with one sweep of a humongous arm, drew back a curtain of the ivy, revealing a passageway tunneling into the mountain's base.

"Righ' through here!" he informed them, and turned to enter first. And then, carried easily to them, "Ouch! Merlin's beard! Yeh'll wanna watch out fer tha'!"

Like we'll really be in danger of cracking our skulls when we're five feet shorter than you… honestly!

All the same, he still eyed the overhang of the opening carefully as his boat passed under. He even kept an eye out for stalactites or a narrowing of the tunnel, which was a difficult task among the reflection and refraction of light from their leader's lamp. But the passageway opened up quickly enough into a larger pool with a pebbled beach.

The boats all drew up and beached themselves, and they extricated themselves (he with the most poise, of course) and clumped about halfway to the end of the chamber, looking a bit lost. As soon as the large man was done checking the boats, though – What for? It hardly matters if one has sprung a leak **now**, does it? We've already crossed! – he strode directly to the wall and, with another "Follow me!" and a hoist of the lamp, walked straight into it. Now that he was within it and the lamp illuminated it, it became apparent that among the outcropping there was a sort of channel in the rock. It really shouldn't have been all that surprising, considering that trick had just been pulled.

They emerged on the lawn directly before the castle and approached the large oak front entrance. In comparison to the wooden doors, their guide for the evening finally looked to be of normal build. An ironic sort of thought passed through his head as he wondered at its size: were all the faculty as large as this man, or did they just like to intimidate their tenants? Then the man knocked, and the door opened to reveal a creature (surely he couldn't be a person?) as small as the first was tall. Or maybe they're overcompensating for something?

-------------------

"I'm still hungry. Sitting here with an empty plate in front of me doesn't do anything to assuage that!" He was rubbing his stomach petulantly. This time the boys from the carriage, surrounding him, just rolled their eyes and it was a red-haired girl who answered him.

"Shh! Pay attention to the sorting!"

"Why? We already had ours. And it doesn't make me less hungry. Couldn't we at least have appetizers, or hors douvres, or a poopoo platter, or someth—oof!"

"I told you: shut up! Pay attention!"

"No, your elbow in my gut didn't help my appetite either, thanks, except maybe increase it to include revenge against a Miss Lynnette Leahy!"

"God, Sirius, the only way you'd pay the slightest attention would be if they were sorting fruit, wouldn't it?"

"That can be arranged…"

-------------------------

"I'm very sorry you had to witness that example of immaturity among some of our older student," the brusque and strict brogue broke over his ears, and for an instant sounded as sweet as any he'd ever heard; the return of any sound was welcome, signaling the restoration of his ears from rather large celery sticks. But then the voice was just annoying. He hadn't witnessed anything; he'd been victimized.

"I assure you, the perpetrators have been taken care of –"

"But that was so awesome!" broke in some disgusting blond boy.

From what I've heard from that barmy hat, he **must** be a Hufflepuff! Although that boy had only had his fingers turned into sausages, so he guessed that might have some room for interest. But really, celery for ears? He just supposed he was luckier than some, smirking at a short girl with hair that fell in perfect ringlets. It's brown color aside, Severus could almost still see the ziti it had been a couple minutes ago.

The witch attempted to give a tolerant smile to the blond boy who had spoken out. Or at least that's what Severus assumed she was trying to convey, because he couldn't fathom what sort of constructive end could be gained by bestowing an I-just-got-a-particularly-large-broom-shoved-up-my-backside grimace. "Be that as it may, that little show did break several of this institution's rules, which are to be abided by, or you and your house will suffer the consequences. And now, I supposed it's best that we finish the sorting here, away from itchy wand hands. So if we can just continue from where Professor Flitwick left of…" She consulted the list that the tiny professor had read names from earlier, before their experience in the arena of edible body parts.

"Quinn, Duc."

"RAVENCLAW!"

--------------------

-------------------

A prefect or two from each house were passing out flyers to everyone at their respective tables, and Severus wondered what they were for. He was soon answered as the Head Boy – a cold, pale boy my the name of Malfoy – slid into his seat near the end of the table and deposited his stack of flyers at the empty place next to him.

"Schedules over here. Come and get them yourselves. I don't cater to a bunch of lazy asses."

Personally, Severus thought that was a bit rich, coming from someone who was too lazy to hand out papers. Sighing, he stood up and made his way down and around the table. Slytherin he may be, and Slytherin they may have been sorted, but he was seeing more differences than similarities between him and his housemates. But then again, he was new to the school and house, and surely matters weren't set in stone after only a day. He felt moderately sure that it wouldn't take very long to become accustomed to the way the students from Slytherin house were. After all, he'd been sorted there, hadn't he?

Sitting back down, one of the girls also sorted into Slytherin the night before plopped down beside him with great gusto and flair.

"Oh, Severus, we must compare schedules," she declared with an impish flick of her long blond hair over her shoulder, and snatched his from a barely proffered hand. She had been the last sorted into Slytherin before the fruit prank had been pulled, and he the first afterwards. He didn't really read anything into it, but it seemed to mean something to her, as she had attached herself to him later that night in the Common Room, expressing her sympathy in wide-eyed insincerity. She'd even made a point of saying goodnight to him as they went to bed. Well, she was pretty, but he wasn't interested; besides, he didn't quite think that was what she was after, either. She was very self-seeking, but not quite self-sufficient, and he assumed she saw something in his companionship that would benefit her.

"Aww, too bad, we've only got a couple classes together." She pushed his schedule back to him. "We must hope for better luck next year."

"Yes, quite."

She hard the dry amusement in his voice, and gave him a calculating look. But then she caught the permissive flash of acknowledgement in his quick grin. With an impish smile of her own, she turned to her breakfast, chattering about the helpful upperclassmen she'd already talked to for directions to classes.

Ah, what the hell, he thought, readdressing his eggs. She's harmless. What damage can it do to entertain her until her interest wanes?

Then he was interrupted from his breakfast again. This time it was his head of house, a strict but affable man with sandy red hair and an identical brogue as the Transfiguration professor he and the last half of the alphabet had been prematurely introduced to the night before.

"Mr. Snape?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like to have a word with you about your schedule, so if you'd follow me…"

Now what? "Yes, sir."

He noticed Narcissa very studiously appearing to not be paying any attention, but as soon as he got up she hastened to say, "See you at 11:30, Severus."

He nodded absently, noticing she'd circled the classes he had with her. Among them, the first was Monday, 11:30 – Charms. "Don't you worry yourself about Mr. Snape. This matter between us will only take a couple minutes."

She almost looked disappointed that there wasn't any further information to be gleaned.

"However, should it run a bit long, Mr. Snape's tardiness to his first class will be excused. But yours will not be, especially considering my sister values punctuality and enjoys frightening younger students with loss of house points. So Miss Pharisaic, do try to get to your first class on time." He grinned. "It is now quarter till, and I generally find it takes me twenty minutes to make it to the Transfiguration hall. At a leisurely stroll, though."

Severus could see the wheels turning in her little blond head. Clearly, she'd just been given some first class information with lots of potential. He could almost see her in class with an audience. With a flick of her hair, she'd say, "Oh, don't worry, Professor McGonagall isn't really all that bad. She just takes off points to scare you. Professor Skeandhu told me so, and he would know, wouldn't he, being her brother and all?" And poof, she'd be a step above her peers. Knowledge may not be power, but it was certainly a very handy tool in climbing the social ranks of society, and she would be seen as a source of it.

And finally, he saw the last cog click into place as she hurriedly grabbed her schedule and books and excused herself breathlessly. As he light form disappeared into the hall, his professor addressed him again, grinning. "Come along now, Mr. Snape."

As they made their way out of the Great Hall and into the sparsely populated Entrance Hall, Severus spoke up.

"Sir, it's only quarter past eight, not quarter till nine."

"Isn't that interesting," he deadpanned. In spite of himself, Severus grinned. "And about your schedule: let's just get right to the point, shall we?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure you are aware, but in addition to being the Runes professor and the Head of Slytherin House, I am also Deputy Headmaster of the school under Professor Dumbledore."

He quirked a brow. What was the standard reply to someone who'd just bragged about his job? Somehow, "I'm a five-ten eleven-year-old, beat that," just didn't quite seem appropriate. "Congratulations?"

"It has come to my attention that you are a particularly skilled young man."

"Er…"

"I feel, and Professor Dumbledore agrees, that you would not be properly challenged in some classes at your age level. As I'm sure Miss Pharisaic pointed out, your schedules differ. This is because we have placed you in some classes with older students. You will be taking the classes as the rest of your year, merely at a higher level."

So, his tutoring had paid off, but so what? Sure, his head now felt twelve sizes bigger, but he didn't quite understand the fuss. He did appreciate the warning, though. If he had walked into a class full of older students, he would have turned around and walked right out again, assuming he'd taken a wrong turn or gone to the wrong class. "Alright then… I suppose thanks are in order?" If I'm not bored out of my mind, that's a good thing, right?

"I suppose. Now, you will be taking Herbology and Transfiguration with sixth year students, and Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts with seventh year students. Charms; History of Magic; all the rest of your classes are at regular level, and you'll have them with your year."

"Yes, sir."

"Now run along, it's quarter till."

He almost fell for it. "Isn't that interesting," he retorted, "—sir."

Professor Skeandhu just laughed. "You'll do just fine. Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Snape."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: this is my first attempt at a fic, and I'm very nervous about it. You wouldn't believe how self-conscious one becomes when offering their work out to the world. Anyways, I have been working on this little plotline for a long, long time, and I hate it when you have to wait _forever_ for updates, and so have postponed submitting it until I have several chapters already written. So some of the material is "out of date," or considered AU because I came up with this idea long before Ms. Rowling came out with OotP or HBP, but I hope you can overlook that and enjoy the story. Any comments/constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

------------

Chapter 2: Seeds of Discord Sown

-------------

-------------

"_Aw_, that sounds so sweet!"

"I know… but really, it was no easy task." Her companion looked skeptical. "Oh, the older boys were easy enough to handle, but the twins – Dolly and Ellen, remember –"

"The trouble-makers?"

"—yes, and they were! I could barely keep them out of trouble, let alone tell them apart!"

"Well, at least you were helping out your aunt. That last made five kids, didn't it?" She sounded slightly incredulous.

"Yeah. And there's probably another couple around the corner, which is great. As much of a handful as they were, the twins were adorable; plus, being nursemaid for them for the summer has had so many benefits. You know I want to be a governess after school, and now I've got loads of valuable experience. Don't give me that look! Being a governess isn't a bad job: you wouldn't believe the pay for taking care of some rich snob's kids when they can't be bothered to. And Aunt Molly really did need an extra set of helping hands, and they're not exactly well off financially, so I was just glad to help."

"As lovely as you make it sound, I don't think I'll ever want a large family. In fact, one kid should do very nicely. Oh, over here, Todd!" She waved as her classmate and fellow newly-made Prefect called her name, trying to locate her in order to giver her her schedule. "Thanks!"

The boy in question had dark, tousled hair she imagined hadn't seen a comb yet that morning. "No problem, Lily. Oh, Lynnette, yours should be just a little ways down…" He started rifling through the sheaf of parchment he was holding.

"So, how's being a Prefect going?"

"Fine, fine…actually," here he pulled a wry grin, "the older Prefects seem to like to dump all the busy-work on us 'newbies'."

"Lily, why aren't you doing anything, then?"

"Because her boyfriend's a Prefect, not to mention the fact that every guy in the house past third year is sweet on her, that's why."

She laughed. "Well, being pretty does have its advantages!" She tossed her tresses over her shoulder in a very exaggerated gesture, sticking her nose in the air.

"That's right, m'dear." Another untidy-, dark-haired boy had dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her upturned nose and slid into the space on the bench next to her. "It makes it a lot easier for your boyfriend to say, 'hi,' every morning."

She scoffed, and her friends were grinning. "James Potter, you are a horrible, shallow, pompous git!"

He was unabashed. "Yes, but you know that's why you love me. Anyways, what's your schedule? I've already got mine."

Todd spoke up. "Duh, 'cause you dumped the other years you were supposed to hand out on me. Here's your, Lynnette, and now I've got to go see if I can get the rest of these out by the time classes start. I'll see you two later." He hurried off among short chirps of farewell from the girls to where "Furth, Scott," was enjoying his kippers.

"He tries too hard, that one." James' eyes were tinkling behind his glasses.

"As opposed to you, mate," chuckled yet another dark-haired boy joining them. "You don't try at all. And can you _believe_ we have double Herbology _and_ Transfiguration with the Slytherins? I mean, really, what's Dumbledore playing at? Does he _want_ a homicide at Hogwarts?"

"Hm… 'Homicide at Hogwarts'… that almost sounds like the title of a book, doesn't it?" mused Lynnette. "Besides, you should just be glad you haven't had to double with them before. Lily and I have had double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Slytherins ever since first year."

"Ah, shut up, Lynnette, and leave me to my whining." His tone was playful. "You didn't let me last night, and just look at what happened."

"Oh, yes, before I forget…" Lily reached around from where she had leant against James, and smacked him on the head. "Sirius, what were you thinking? That's got to be the only time in Hogwarts history that Gryffindor's had _negative_ points! Points off before classes even started; we're going to have to work extra heard to get the Cup this year!"

"You know, James, I think I've found you that Beater you were looking for since Perkins left." He was massaging his scalp and wincing.

"Well, it serves you right!"

"Besides," amended Lynnette for her, "we couldn't possibly start an extracurricular activity like Quidditch this year. OWLs are coming up, and we've got to prepare for them!"

"You're not actually _worried_ about them, are you?" Sirius looked incredulous. "They're a breeze. Overrated, too: teachers just inventing another excuse to get us to do more work." The girls regarded him dubiously. "Don't worry your pretty red heads about it. I know you'll pass with nothing but Os. You're both the smartest people in your year. That's nothing compared to me, of course," he added devilishly. "_Ouch_! Yep, James, I've definitely found you your Beaters," he groaned petulantly, both sides of his head smarting from the double attack Lily and Lynnette had launched. "I'm off to wake up Remus and Peter, otherwise we'll never make it to Herbology on time. Damn shame having to see those Slytherins so early in the morning." He rose and trudged off, mumbling about "homicidal redheads at Hogwarts…"

James turned to them with a pained expression. "I fear that you have mortally wounded my friend, and for that you must pay!" And he pounced, tickling Lily mercilessly.

-----------------------

_Venomous tentaculi have to be the most retarded plants in the **entire** world_, he thought, wincing as the mediwitch pulled seven-inch thorns from his swollen, purple arm.

_Why, in the name of Merlin, would anyone want to create a half-sentient, wholly malevolent, spiked vine?_ His ruined robes lay in a tattered pile on the end table by the head of the bed, resembling a pincushion more than anything else. They had slowed the penetration of the spikes so that his back, shoulders, and torso had much shallower punctures than his forearms. They had been had been exposed as he'd rolled up his sleeves while working in the peat.

_Gryffindors are gits_, chased its way around his head as his entire upper body throbbed, swollen and discolored. He jerked as the mediwitch smeared a cold, slimy gel on his newly de-spined arm, and continued to glop it up his arm to cover his shoulder, across his back, and back down his other arm.

"I do believe you can get the rest by yourself, Mr. Snape." With that, the mediwitch handed him the jar of goop and bustled off to her office.

'_No, Professor, we didn't see what happened. His disgusting Slytherin-ness must have set it off,'_ he recalled savagely, wincing as he had to scoop through what felt like a mix between snot and mashed potatoes. He thought they'd been throwing the fertilizer balls at him to annoy him. He'd taken the high road and ignored them. They weren't actually hitting him, anyways, just getting annoyingly close.

_That boy is an imbecile._ He hadn't realized until it had already lashed out and grabbed him that, while missing him, the fertilizer balls had been pegging the irate plant behind him. At the beginning of the class, when they were entering the greenhouse, Severus had heard him laughing with his gang as they congratulated him on the prank the other night, and so knew that with this boy, it was no mistake. That made his second offense in eighteen hours!

The mediwitch exited her office, coming over to him. "Give that another fifteen minutes to soak in, Mr. Snape, and then you will be free to return to your next class. You should be grateful," she added in a disapproving tone, "that you got off with just a few scratches; there are many more dangerous plants in Hogwarts' greenhouses than the venomous tentacula. Hopefully you will know better than to fool around in class from now on."

He didn't say anything, but his jaw was clenched, and his blood pumped in a way totally dissociated from the effects of the venom in his veins. The injustice of it all stung, and the worst part was that the Herbology professor had caught the boy once near the beginning of the lesson, admonishing him for being careless with the fertilizer ("It's expensive, you know."). _'My fingers slipped,' my arse!_

-----------------------

"Oh, Severus, Transfiguration was simply amazing! Did you know, I was the only one who could make my beetle look like a button?" Narcissa's cheerfulness was entirely wasted on his foul mood. "Granted, it still had its antennae, but it was flat and had the right number of holes!"

He managed a tight smile. "How…lovely."

"But I'm forgetting myself; how was your first class, Severus?"

His tone was sharp. "_Don't _ask."

----------------------

----------------------

He appreciated what Professors Skeandhu and Dumbledore had tried to do for him, but it was just making life more trouble than it was worth. It was just his luck that both of the sixth year courses he was taking happened to be doubled with Gryffindor. Specifically, doubled with that thug, whose name he had finally discovered (after about the fifth found of pranks) to be Sirius Black.

His fellow Slytherins were hardly supportive, seeming to think he deserved it for being "smarter" than them. The seventh years were even worse, feeling personally slighted when presented with someone who made them feel less secure of their own superiority. To top it all off, the other first years had started to notice that he was the only one not in some of their classes, and he was beginning to feel ostracized.

Only Narcissa Pharisaic seemed unaffected by the anti-Snape disposition of the House – or should he say Houses, as Black had incited a dislike of him through the Gryffindors as well. It was based on nothing more than the fact that Black picked on him, and so he must therefore be a nasty person, or someone who deserved it. His being a Slytherin really didn't help his popularity among the other Houses, either, and most attempts at making new acquaintances or friends usually ended badly. But he had Narcissa's company, even if it was for a selfish purpose and wasn't necessarily what one generally called a friendship. He wasn't going to be picky, though; "house elves can't be choosers" and all that. On this particular morning, she was regaling him with tales of Patty Parkinson and the exposure of her unicorn plushie.

"I mean, really…Patty? She's always such a bitch in class, and it turns out she still sleeps with a stuffed animal. Go figure. She dumped it in the bin to be disposed of with the laundry as soon as we caught her with it, but I bet she'll have it back before going to sleep tonight."

This was the most intelligent conversation she could come up with? And was it so horrendous that someone not even quite in her teens yet took comfort from an inanimate object? "Didn't you ever have a stuffed animal when you were younger?"

"Of course I did. But you give up such childish things. Besides, that's not the point."

"Oh, it isn't?"

"No." She gave him a scathing look. "I'm sure there are others with the same sort of thing, and probably even some older students as well. But she was stupid enough to be caught, and so must suffer the consequences. Those are, at the moment, a bit of embarrassing, but ultimately harmless, ridicule."

Severus thought he might just have gotten a glimpse at the real Narcissa Pharisaic: an astute, observant young lady with a remarkable and ruthless grasp of reality and the way things worked. She was a hundred percent correct, of course; Lucius Malfoy himself could wear a pink tutu and have a house elf sing him lullabies if it helped him sleep easier, as long as no one officially knew. But slip up just once, let one ruffle from the tutu stick out or one note of the house elf's melody linger a moment too long, and it was social suicide. You were caught, game's up, and you've failed the Slytherin way of sneak first, cleverly avoid confrontation (while stabbing them in the back, if need be) later.

As frivolous as Lucius Malfoy in a tutu made it sound, this system was the backbone of Slytherin House's workings, and applied to far more than just nocturnal aids. He'd been there long enough to start to realize and identify some of it. It was no surprise to him that the Slytherins were seen as cunning and ambitious. You had to hide your deepest fears, squash your insecurities, and demolish your weak points while at the same time ferreting out everyone else's. If one of yours were discovered, you'd need some dirt of your own to threaten with and keep them off your back.

It was a ridiculous system, really, if you thought about it. Everyone was against each other and always guarded, constantly paranoid and on edge. It was no way to live, especially for adolescents just becoming adjusted to the world, and was almost an impossible task to keep all fronts, backs, and sides protected. Which was exactly how friends were made. Alliance, rather, as there was really no way to have a "friend" like that; the basis of friendship was trust, and most of the Slytherins didn't have enough to fill a pixie's cap. There was just enough trust between groups of people to form cliques, circles of those who let a select few know more about them freely in exchange for protection against the others. It was a large-scale arrangement of "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," instead twisted into, "I scratch your back, you watch mine." Yes, they were ready to turn on each other at the slightest hint of betrayal or double-crossing, but for as long as it lasted, you'd be hard pressed to find a closer, more tightly knit and protective group of people.

Unfortunately for him, his unique curricular arrangement had cost him the opportunity to become part of such a group. His special treatment branded him as different and untouchable as if he had been a leper. However, he thought he was managing well enough on his own. For instance, no one knew that being locked in a small closet could inspire more fear in him than any fantastic beast ever could; or that he was sweet on another first year Ravenclaw; or that, apart from those directly involved, he was taking higher levels of instruction; or, his second most highly guarded secret, that the gobstones set he kept safely locked in his trunk was part of his inheritance transfigured: a beautiful, deadly, dark saber.

His entire family, as far back as was traceable (which was a darn good chunk of time), was born of fencers, and he had been trained in the art of the steel blade just as his forefathers had been. Sometimes, after a particularly horrible day – often a Sirius-filled one – he would take out the gobstones set and undo the transfiguration on it, polishing and caring for it in the night, long after his dorm-mates had fallen asleep. He would sit in the dark, letting the moonlight be the only illumination, contemplating the saber and letting his most guarded secret run through his head, reminding himself and taking comfort in the knowledge of it. Come morning, the gobstones set would always be back in its correct place, and his companions would suspect nothing, and though he knew his day would probably not be very much better from the last, his back would be a bit straighter and his head held a fraction higher.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: it just occurred to me that I've been forgetting to put a disclaimer at the top of every chapter. Well, obviously I'm not JKR, and I'm obviously not making any money off of this, so obviously it follows that none of these characters are mine (except the ones you don't recognize). I guess that gets that out of the way! Enjoy the rest of the chapter!

---------------------

Buds of Animosity Blossoming

---------------------

---------------------

Severus' head swam, stars blinking and tingling in front of is eyes. "Oh, I am _so_ sorry, Snapey." Black leered down at him, his cohorts laughing supportively behind him. "I seem to have come down with a rather bad case of Sever-it is. Every time I see your disgusting face, I just can't—" he sent another lazy crippling curse his way. "—seem—" and another, "—to help—" and another, "—hating it." At the level Black was using them, the curses were having no worse an effect than merely making his whole body feel like one giant bruise. _That's enough, isn't it? What more does he need to do? Why won't he just leave me in peace?_

He felt completely and utterly humiliated, curled up on the floor at Black's feet. All he'd done was happen to have the misfortune of walking past Sirius in the hall when he was in a particularly bored mood, looking for trouble to start. It was the first time Black had started something outside of class, but Severus was already sick and tired of being picked on. None of the other pranks he'd been at the mercy of had so blatantly been directed at him, either. Oh, yes, everyone knew Sirius hated him, but Sirius hadn't yet actually addressed him, preferring instead to torment him from afar, avoiding blame. Now, though, there was no doubt who was responsible.

As Severus felt himself thrown back against the wall, he realized Sirius was still talking; probably insulting him, but he didn't really care. Through the pain and mortification, another emotion was starting to bubble and froth up. Maybe what Sirius was saying was registering somewhere, and it was really, really offensive. Maybe this was just one assault too many. Maybe he was being irrational. Whatever the reason, he was mad. He could feel it racing through him, lending him strength. He was a Slytherin, goddammit, and he did _not_ have to put up with this!

Every little slight, every prank, every sense of loneliness and frustration born directly or indirectly from Sirius' tormenting welled up and seemed to blind him. He caught Black in the middle of an insult, whipping his wand out and cursing him in the blink of an eye.

In the instant before it hit, Black looked surprised, as if the thought of possible retaliation hadn't even crossed his mind. Then he was gasping for breath and probably in a good deal more pain than Severus was. His little gang started forward with a yell, wands raised.

"Dueling in the halls is strictly forbidden!" It was just his luck that at that exact moment Professor McGonagall came striding over. She looked furious. "Mr. Snape, such behavior is not permitted here at Hogwarts! Thirty points from Slytherin and detention with Pringle. You can be sure I'll be talking to Professor Skeandhu about this! _Totally _unacceptable…" Still huffing, she ordered Sirius off to the hospital wing and grabbed his shoulder, marching him off to heavens knew where.

Severus, losing more points from his House and with his first detention and facing more trouble from various Professors, felt wonderful. He'd finally stood up to Sirius Black, and he felt like he could fly.

-------------------

In retrospect, he probably _shouldn't _have reciprocated in cursing Black, as it only gave him definite reason to torment him even more. Before, Severus had always ignored Black, taking what was dealt him and dealing with it, and now Sirius _knew_ he could get a rise out of Snape, and knew that his tormenting got to him. It seemed like he had made it his personal task to make life as miserable as possible for Severus.

But retaliating had felt so liberating, and he didn't stop now that Black had stepped up the pace a bit. As much trouble as he invariably got into (Black always seemed to miraculously avoid it), it was always worth it to see Black brought as low as he had been, or to see the grimace of rage that meant one of his own insults had particularly hurt. He was even managing to garnish a bit of respect from the Slytherins for his handiwork with Dark spells and particularly nasty hexes. His good grades and proficiency in the advanced courses had failed to prove to them exactly what his tenacity in the face of Black was making more and more apparent: he was accelerated because he was truly advanced, not because he was a geek.

More importantly, he was powerful, at least by schoolchild standards. That, more than anything else, made him a commodity. Unlike in the previous months, this sort of being unique was not detrimental to his social standing. Slowly but surely, more and more of the Slytherins were taking notice of him, and hating themselves for liking what they saw. The sixth years were disgusted with themselves for believing a mere first year to be as good as them. The younger years, who had no idea that Severus was in advanced classes or why Black tormented him so, disliked the respect they felt for him standing up to such and older student. And because here was obviously a source of strength and a particularly threatening enemy, they started to warm toward him, including him in more and more of their activities. Narcissa, by extension, was favored. It was well known that she hung out with him, and so would know the most about him. She was popular, and delighted at the outcome.

Severus saw it for what it was, and was pleased. He even realized the bitter sort of irony that Black had brought him what he had been most lacking: human companionship. But he did not forget that it was their mistrustfulness and looking out for number one that had brought them to him. _Keep your friends close; keep your enemies even closer._

True acceptance into the Slytherin society didn't occur until after enough had passed between him and Black that the Head Boy had to get involved. Professor McGonagall had gone to him in an effort to intervene and "knock some sense into that boy." The Head Boy's subtle inquiries about him proved shocking, at least to him. It seemed the entire House was abuzz with tales of Severus Snape duking it out with Sirius Black, and how able of a magician he was. Lucius Malfoy was about as Slytherin as they came at Hogwarts, and knew exactly what to do. It would probably not have any effect on the incidents between Snape and Black; but then again, his family hadn't become rich and influential over generations by blindly doing as instructed, or ending inconsequential conflicts between children.

---------------------

---------------------

"Relatio!"

"Serpensortia!"

He was particularly proud of that hex he'd developed, and thought the large black snake it conjured was a beauty. It had the desired effect of intimidating Black, and was just about ready to deliver a nasty mouthful of fangs to Black's flesh when a "Finite Incantatum!" made short work of it.

Severus scowled, but it was not his adversary who had dispatched his lovely creation, but the Head Boy. He was strolling up to the pair and the slight crowd they'd drawn, twirling his wand in his fingers idly.

"_Tsk, tsk_, magic in the halls? I think that'll be ten points from Gryffindor, won't it, Mr. Black?"

Black looked thunderstruck. "But that was _his_ spell!" he protested, referring to Snape.

"Yes, yes," Malfoy looked bored, remarking, "but I do believe you started this little altercation, didn't you?"

Severus grinned savagely. He thought he could actually see Black's blood pressure rising. "But… but…" He was so aghast and surprised at the turn of events that he still had his wand raised from the scuffle.

"Really, Mr. Black, do I have to make that twenty points from Gryffindor? Everything seems to be in order to me. Unless you'd like to disagree with my evaluation of the situation, or debate the amount of points I could withdraw from Gryffindor…?" He left the threat hanging, but Black's few brain cells pulled themselves together and acted – for once – prudently.

"No, sir," he ground out, stiffly lowering his wand arm.

"Well, then, I'm sure you and your friends will manage to find your way back to your Common Room, won't you?" Lucius' cool gray gaze was challenging. His and Black's gazes locked for a moment, a nerve twitching in the younger boy's jaw. Then Black threw a couple glances at his posse and turned to go, throwing a short, "C'mon," at them and leaving with one last parting look of hate at Snape. He made sure to return it with a condescending smirk of his own, as if Lucius' stepping in on his behalf had been totally expected. It hadn't been, of course; but then again, Black had no need to know that.

As the obnoxious Gryffindors left the scene and their small audience dispersed, Severus turned to the Head Boy. It was he who addressed Severus first.

"I'm not quite familiar with that distinct curse. Where might someone so young as yourself have come across a spell like that?" His tone was light and casual; he could have been discussing the weather.

Honestly, Severus was startled by his choice of topic. He had been expecting an admonishment, either for dueling or for "having to be rescued," or even to be ignored. Casual conversation he had _not_ expected, and came just above "kiss me" on the list of things Lucius Malfoy, Head Boy, might have done. Even though they shared two classes, the pale boy had never let on that he knew Severus existed other than to avoid running into him in the cramped confines of the Potions ingredients closet. He recovered quickly, though, answering in his own neutral tone.

"I invented it."

Was it just him, or did Lucius look surprised for a second? But the moment passed, and he was drawling, as composed as ever, "A perfect explanation, then, as to why I did not recognize it; and a first year, making up jinxes. What is Hogwarts coming to?"

With that parting shot he ambled off. Severus contemplated following him for an instant, but what he'd said hadn't really been an invitation, and his posture didn't seem to indicate the expectancy of company.

Further down the hall, he paused to deduct points from a couple of snogging Hufflepuffs, and Severus took that as a negative answer. Besides, if he wanted him, he'd just have to come to him. It may seem like a childish attitude, but he was no fool. Underneath the veiled insult and insinuation of inferiority due to his youth, Lucius had made a clear acknowledgement of Severus' accomplishment. That, combined with the fact that he was interacting with him, signaled an interest in him. He didn't know what would make the most senior Slytherin find him worthy of association with, but he _would_ be a fool to ignore it.

Even as he was puzzling over that facet of the issue, another section of his head was already racing over the possibilities for manipulations to his benefit. He was sure that whatever the outcome, Lucius would only act in his own best interest, and that it would be an especially good idea to watch his back now that he was concerned with him.

-------------------------

-------------------------

As the weeks passed, it seemed Severus had been correct: Lucius Malfoy had definitely taken an interest in him. It was probably undetectable to anyone from another House, but all of Slytherin was conscious of the careful dance the two wizards – one dark, one light; one older, one young – were entangled in.

Nothing definitive or straightforward was ever said, but sporadically enough to be regular there would be another little encounter between the two. A nod of acknowledgement between the two; an innocent enough request for an ingredient or supply; a seemingly random partnership in class; a casual reference of one to another in audience; they were slowly working a web of connections and contact, coming closer and closer to an official recognition of alliance.

As Lucius had predicted when asked to step in on behalf of the administration, there was not a noticeable decrease in the already almost legendary altercations between Black and Snape. There was, however, a marked dwindling of ruckus caused by their run-ins. Though the two's unmistakable animosity for each other was understood to be an entirely separate issue from his involvement with Lucius, he still got more attention because of it, and had to act accordingly. Being monitored by virtually the entire House meant he had to act perfectly, exactly to the letter of what a "true Slytherin" would do. Just as many brawly and duels erupted between them, but Severus was twice as cunning and thrice as sly. He would always make Black take the first step, ensuring the blame, and often disappearing just as a Professor or Prefect rounded the corner, again ensuring trouble for Black. He also turned the tables around, becoming just as untraceable and nasty as he had been victim to earlier in the year. Again, he was struck by the irony of the situation: in matters concerning just him and black, he was forced to act in ways Black would rather have him eschew for reasons that didn't concern Black at all.

It was paying off, too. Every Slytherin knew his name, and every Slytherin was learning to respect him. At meals many groups surrounded him, each seeming not to take any particular notice of him, but none of them guarding their conversations around him. In the halls, passing members from his own house, he would be given ample room to breathe, but they would all meet his eyes and admit him. He was recognized and accepted in all circles without a word. He was starting to feel as if the denizens of the depths of the castle knew more of him than even he did. Whenever the feeling got too strong and he felt his tongue or manner loosening, he had only to pull out the gobstones set and remind himself of who he was.

As much of a comfort as it had been when being tormented so badly by Black, it was just as much of one now under the constant stress of having to perform for an audience 24/7. Polishing and contemplating wasn't much of an exercise for a frustrated adolescent, so he would instead find an unused classroom and practice his forms. The more exhausted he was in the morning, the more refreshed and ready he felt to face a new day.

He was coming to love the night and all it stood for. During it, he was alone, away from the prying eyes and demanding roles. He could relax in the cool silence of the hours of darkness and let down his guard without fear. The moon was truly beautiful, and his fondness for the light it cast on grew. In the silvery illumination, everything was cast in a sharp relief of grayscale and took on an ethereal quality. Just him, his blade, and the argentine orb to watch over their exertions; these were his few moments of peace.

The return to his diurnal schedule always felt slightly disappointing, like the feeling in your stomach when a flight of stairs has one step less than expected. The mystic value that night leant was stripped away when the sun rose, and Severus felt himself "coming up short." As much as he acted and endeavored to be the epitome of Slytherin excellence and interacted carefully with Malfoy, he was trying to climb those few steps above the mundane routine of daily life; but he was always thwarted by the simple lack of means – he needed just a couple more stairs…

Those stairs never did arrive, but over the Easter break a stepladder of sorts was delivered to him. It was not the true solution to his problem, but it was a means to a middle that Severus equated with his goal. Its end, however, was something he never could have foreseen.

It came in the form of an official invitation to spend the school holiday at Malfoy Manor.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Disclaimer JKR's, not mine…

-------------------

-------------------

Chapter 4: A Tainted Heart

-------------------

By the end of the year, the Severus Snape that left on the train was a much different Slytherin than when he had first stepped off of it ten months ago. He was almost revered by his House and was top of his classes, whichever year he was with. He was also partner to Lucius Malfoy, each the closest thing to a best friend either of them had. An optimistic, anxious and yet mature boy he was no longer; instead, he was a powerful, manipulative, secretive, and vengeful young man. His decisions had forced him down the path to manhood sooner than he should have undertaken it, but he had managed.

The nightly practices had kept him sane through the months of ordeal, and he longed for the simplicity of a black-and-white world to have to deal with during the day. As much as he excelled at playing mind games and manipulating the masses, as good or as natural as he was, it had worn on him; all he wanted was a peaceful, ungarnished reality. Seeing as how that seemed to contradict itself, he grasped at the only time he was able to get it: when he was alone, released from the necessity to weave and cobble together a story or keep it all in his head. The result was a hardened, world-weary eleven-year-old who valued isolation and a severe style over almost all else.

The level of hatred between himself and Black was off the charts, and now the whole gang was engaged in an all-out war with him, and he them. Deep, deep down in some small part of him, he knew his ire should be solely reserved for Black, but after the incident with the Whomping Willow, he hated them all: Black for "pulling him in," fooling him; Potter, for having to pull him out; Lupin, for the fear he had raised in Severus' throat when he had caught sight of him; and, even more than them, he hated Dumbledore for his inaction.

Once again, the whole thing was a direct result of Black's arrogance and faulty logic. A month or so before the incident, Severus had been practicing his forms as usual in an abandoned classroom. Physically spent, his mind had still been troubled hours later. He could no longer productively exercise, and so retired to the great windows along the outer wall of the room and castle. The moon had been full and bright. Gazing up at it, picking out the shadows and letting his imagination run loose, he had let his mind wander over inane matters. However, down on the grounds, it seemed as if fate was aspiring against him and the peace he just couldn't seem to find.

His attention was pulled from the heavens by the motion – or rather, cessation of motion – of the Whomping Willow. To his disbelief, a large canine was emerging from it, and there were already two sizeable animals waiting. Where did they come from? Had they come out of the Whomping Willow before he had noticed? Or had they been waiting for one more to join them; in which case, were they from the forest?

All other thoughts had been pushed out of his head when the figures had cleared away from the remobilized tree and he could get a good, unobstructed look at them. It was an odd group by any standards, and as they had moved off towards the forest he was able to identify them.

The first was clearly corvine. With its deep chest and strong lines, it was obviously a buck whose antlers had been newly shed.

The second was an oversized canine, dark across the moonlit expanse of the grounds. It was jogging after the hart, nipping and butting the last, other large canine. Severus was in seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts for a reason, and his insides froze as he easily recognized it for what it must have been: a werewolf.

The sound of his heart racing and his breath loud in his ears, he had calmed himself, taking care to remind himself that he was safely ensconced in the castle, many Quidditch fields away from the receding band.

The next morning before his Herbology class, he had approached the Whomping Willow, inspecting it for any sort of tunnel or rot-out from which the werewolf could have emerged. Once again, the pinheaded Gryffindor quartet interrupted, turning his attention away from the tree in question. Actually, that day, the quartet had been a trio, and as he didn't really want to be unpleasantly distracted by them, he used that to his advantage, turning it into an insult.

"What, he couldn't stand you anymore? Or has he finally come to his senses and now realizes how truly repulsive you lot are?" he had taunted, after making a faux enquiry into their missing counterpart's whereabouts. It seemed to trouble them more than he'd anticipated, because after one apprehensive glance between Black and his sidekick, James Potter, they'd abandoned the insults and jumped him. The scuffle had resulted in a quick jaunt up to the Hospital Wing for all three of them, their third counterpart tagging along as well. By the time they got back to class and had to endure point losses and lectures on proper conduct, he'd had no time to spare a further thought on the matter.

Looking back, he saw how his interest in the Willow and Lupin's absence might have lead them to believe he knew more than he did. If that'd been the case, the physical assault was a perfect distraction, and it had worked. Mr. Lupin had returned to class the next day, and as the moon worked itself on the way to a new, he did not consider the matter further. It was only weeks later with the moon almost full again that he'd noticed Lupin gone once more, and had pulled out and dusted off the insults to go with. That time he'd caught Black alone. Once their curses had reduced each other to barely functioning and disfigured states, he'd felt the need to temper his retreat with a parting shot. It was then that, only still standing straight through force of will and inability to fold in front of Black, he'd been as confused and intrigued as hell by the other's comment.

"Just poke the large knot on the south-facing side of the Whomping Willow, and you'll find out where Remus is!" he had said. Why would he be the whereabouts of some silly Gryffindor concern him? But then the last month's viewing came to mind, and he had started to wonder.

The next night he had set out early, just at dusk, all precautions taken should he have run into the werewolf. He had purposely chosen a time that he knew its partners would not be around (if they followed any sort of routine, that was), and he was carrying a silver cross tucked carefully inside his cloak pocket. He'd been delayed by having to avoid Madame Pomfrey, who had been traversing the Entrance Hall. It was a bit late for her to have been exiting from dinner, but he supposed that was her prerogative.

He'd found it, all right, that knot. He got a nasty scrape from one of the Willow's branches before he'd gotten to it, but he didn't much care as the roots had parted, revealing the gap down into the tunnel he'd been looking for earlier. He'd just started to lower himself when three things happened simultaneously: he saw Remus Lupin at the far end shudder and start to transform; his heart clenched in his throat; and he felt a hand clench around his shoulder and heave him back out. The hand belonged to a furious-looking James Potter.

"What the _hell _do you think you were _doing?_ You could have been killed, or bitten. I can't believe your petty arguments with Sirius could have pulled you this far; how could you have so blindly fallen into this?"

"Get _off_ me, Potter! I was _fully _prepared for what was down there, and this only confirms my own suspicions! I'll thank you to keep your nose out of other' business and find some other poor soul to save, because this one is fine and going straight to Headmaster Dumbledore!"

It had not ended well. Dumbledore was entirely supportive of the Gryffindors and hadn't even entertained his charges. He had thought that maybe Dumbledore might have valued his opinion enough to at least listen to it, if he thought he was ready for special placement. He had thought wrong. He had also realized that his mistake had been in trusting Dumbledore, another undependable non-Slytherin.

The whole Gryffindor group that Lupin was a part of looked at him with contempt, and he spent the rest of his altercations trying to get back at them for the slight he felt he'd been dealt. With his new alliance to Lucius, people became much more accommodating towards his hatred of the "marauders," as they liked to call themselves.

_Despoilers, more likely._

By people, he meant Slytherins, of course; as much as they took a part in the issue (they had taken to shooting off a curse or so every time they passed the marauders, and what was it to them if it wasn't strictly the marauders they hit? They were all Gryffindors, after all.), so had the Ravenclaws and other Gryffindors. Even the innocuous Hufflepuffs had stirred themselves to glare and, in a humongous step for them, be frosty towards the Snake's House.

In the weeks that followed the incident and the student body became increasingly vicious, Severus would sometimes look up from a meal or turn in the halls and find the Headmaster watching him. It was often with a stare of indeterminable depth, disappointment finding its way to the top. He was responsible for at least then years of carefully fostered inter-House relations going down the drain, but somehow he knew that wasn't what Dumbledore was about – or at any rate, not mainly. The great wizard's personal disapproval could evoke feelings of remorse from a Dementor, but Severus always squelched the reaction. Ruthlessly, he was glad that the halls of Hogwarts had become less carefree and tenser, and that Slytherin was swiftly seceding from the "good and proper" side of things. Deep down somewhere he realized that someone, who wouldn't otherwise have, would walk down the long road to Voldemort and the side of Death, but he couldn't bring himself to care when compared to the indescribable satisfaction that came from being contrary to Dumbledore. Dumbledore preached unity and friendship; he sowed discontent. Dumbledore taught tolerance and understanding; he led the masses in a feud born of prejudices and conclusions that had been jumped to. Dumbledore had told him to hush up; he was making a statement on a grander scale than any first year before could have dreamed.

-------------------

When Serjanus and Kalila received their only son from his first year of schooling, they knew he would be different, changed from their Severus that they had sent out to meet the world. Nothing, though, would have prepared them for the cool, collected, and utterly closed young man who met them at the platform. Oh, they were all Snapes through and through: controlling in emotion, smooth-tongued, manipulative and reserved in action. But the person they welcomed back was far blacker in heart than nine months should have been able to change. The time it took to create a miracle of love had instead created a stain of deformation upon what once had been their miracle. They saw how his wisdom of the world had cost him dearly, his openness and belief that life was fundamentally fair and good dashed upon the rocks of his shattered childhood. The arms that welcomed him back were open and loving, but inside they wept for the little boy who used to delight in the sheer pleasure of running through a field or gazing up at the stars was lost to them forever.


End file.
